Page 91 of The Billionaire's Destiny

“And?” he asked.

I swallowed. “That’s our son’s name; he told me when he visited me.”

“Tell me about him,” Rocco urged, his eyes shining.

I described readingAlice in Wonderlandto our son in my dreams. In the hospital, he visited me again, this time withAlice Through the Looking Glass. “He gave me a sense of yearning, of course, because I want him, but he also brought hope and faith.”

Rocco nodded. “Emanuele’s ready for our new beginning.” He bent down and kissed my bandaged wound. “This scar is not his. It is your strength, our love, our faith in starting over. He cannot steal what was never his. All of you is mine. You’re my wife, and I love you.”

I believed it, too. “I love you, Rocco Marini.”

He leaned and hovered close to my face, and I wiped a tear off his cheek. He kissed mine. Then he lifted his hand and placed a palm lightly on my stomach and then placed my hand against the center of his chest. His heart was beating as fast as mine on the monitor, and I loved the sentiment. Together, we would have a new beginning sealed in our faith and love.

“Be right back,” Rocco said, and I handed him back the pen and paper from the hospital. The doctor had finally signed the discharge papers after a week, and I would be able to leave. Wasit too soon? The doctors had me stay longer than most patients because of the baby, and being at home would give me a chance to truly relax, and that would usually give me comfort, but I sank onto the bed, my nerves tingling.

Rocco hadn’t been gone but a few minutes when he returned, trailed by a stranger in a crisp suit. Her short bob and sympathetic, reserved expression marked her as someone official, and I was sure she was law enforcement. I’d seen a few over my early years when neighbors called the police on the loud fights inside our home. She gave me a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, her hand outstretched on approach. “Hello, Mrs. Marini. I’m Detective Harriet Barnes.”

I shook her hand. “Uhm, hello. You speak English.”

“I do. Moved back to Florence in my teens,” she cracked a broader smile. “I’m sorry for what happened to you, and I won’t take up much of your time. I just want to let you know that your father, Mr. Colby, is still missing.” She paused and stared at me.

“He’s still missing? Is he still in Florence?” I asked and closed my hands protectively over my stomach.

“Your father hasn’t used his passport, so we expect he’s still in Europe. So, is there anything about him that you know from the past that he may have mentioned or a person he’d go and see in Italy?”

I rubbed my temples.No. That can’t be right.Didn’t someone have him? Yes? No? I don’t know.“No, he…he didn’t talk about people, only that he’d been here before I was born.”

She took out her iPad. “Can you tell me what you remember? It may help us in our search.”

My voice came out in a rush. “I remember we were on a break from the portrait painting. Santiago asked me to find a spot outside. I went, and then he appeared in one of the rows in the vineyard. He… he bragged that he knew the property very well and not try to get help. He-he called me names.”

“What kind of names?”

“I don’t know…puttana?Bitch?” I raised a brow.

She nodded.

“I told him to leave, and I thought he would, but then he rushed at me. I think I pushed him, but then he was standing there…I…I remembered him laughing with my blood on his hands.” I hugged myself.

“Damn it,” Rocco snarled, fisting his hands on his hips. “Are you done with your questions?” he snapped.

She jutted her chin. “I apologize, Mr. Marini. I came here instead of having Adelina go to thePolizia di Stato. I know it’s difficult to hear, and I sympathize. Would you prefer to wait outside?”

Rocco crossed his arms. “I want you to be more sensitive. She’s pregnant and still under the doctor’s care.”

“Apologies, Mr. Marini,” she said in an even tone, then shifted her attention back to me. “Mrs. Marini, I want you to give me a little more detail. It might help in the future should it progress to charges. You saw him where?”

“Near the vineyard off the patio. He was down the small hill and steps.”

“Then what happened?” she asked.

I rubbed the space between my brows. “We argued—”

“About what?”

“About how I didn’t want him there, and I wanted him away from me. Then he called me names, whore or bitch or something like that. I told him to leave again, but then he just rushed and…” I squeezed my eyes shut.No, I don’t want to think about it.

“Do you have enough, Detective?” Rocco asked in a curt tone.